Not Your Romeo & Juliet

Chapter 1

Vanessa~

Click. Click. Click.

Ah, the beautiful sound of my Prada heels embracing the dirty linoleum that this school calls a floor. I decided to leave Spanish and take an early lunch.

"Vanessa!" Someone calls from behind me.

My long brown curls graze over my shoulder as I turn to see who I have to scold at. I sigh softly to myself as I realize it's just my freshman "mini-me", Little Lindsey, running up to me. Standing still for a moment, I allowed the younger girl to catch up.

"What is it, Lindsey?" I greet her with little enthusiasm, realizing a second later that she's not in class. "Wait, aren't you supposed to be in Chemistry? Ms. Snyder doesn't like skippers, believe me." I snicker to myself. I had Ms. Snyder in my tenth grade year and she hated me so much for never showing up on time, or at all. Ah, tenth grade was fun.

Lindsey pants as she speaks in quick sentences about how some boy in her class said hi to her and then copied her classwork. Poor Little Lindsey, always coming to me for advice, though I've yet to figure out why. I'm not really an "advice" person; my answers are always the same: "Do what you want and fuck anyone who disagrees." Which is basically my life motto.

I continue listening to the clicking of my heels until Lindsey begins pulling on my sleeve to check if I'm listening--this is a regular thing. I meet her eyes for a second to give her the illusion I'm paying attention. Apparently the boy's name is Joshua. Jacob? Jackson? I don't know. It's a J name. Or was it a M? Maybe it was a R. I can't remember.

"...I think he might like me." I hear her say before a deep sigh. "What do you think, Van?" Her voice raises when she says my name.

That's my cue. "I think what I always think, dear," I say nonchalantly. "No boy is worth your effort."

"Ugh," She groans. "You always say that." Yet you still ask for my advice, I think to myself.

"I know," I say, "because it's always applicable. You're only what, 14?"

She shoots me a glare. "Almost 16." She says immediately with a very annoyed tone.

"Right," I reply sarcastically with a slight eye roll, "either way, you're too young to worry about boys."

"But you started dating in middle school!" She stammers.

"Do as I say, not as I do." I answer nonchalantly in a singsong voice. My hair flops over my shoulder again as I turn my gaze from hers to prevent a response.

"Hey, Vanessa!" A guy calls out from our left. Just a junior. Hardly glancing over, I ignored him while Lindsey's automatic response is to wave. I gently grab her wrist and pull it down with an eye roll directly in relation to his presence. I turned my head away, not interested in speaking to him. Instead, I pull Lindsey into the bathroom standing at our right. Dropping her arm, I walked over to the mirror and looked at myself in the reflection.

"Lipstick?" I demand, sticking out my hand and waiting as Lindsey shuffles through her jacket pocket to find my signature red lipstick. She finds it and places it in my hand.

I unscrew the lid and begin applying pigment to my lower lip. Lindsey watches me attentively as I do this, probably silently wishing she had my confidence. Technically you're not supposed to wear lipstick brighter than a natural clear gloss or very pale pink that is hardly noticeable, but do I look like I care? The rules also say not to wear heels, but I didn't spend $700 on these babies to just have them stare at the black wall of my closet. I finish applying my lipstick and return the tube to Lindsey to carry. I want to feel bad about having her carry my things, but I'm her only "friend", so it evens out. I guess. Lindsey and I have a...special situation. Can you even call it that? I don't know, whatever. I should probably explain that.